


Music is like blood running through my veins. I can't live without it. ~ A COLLECTION OF TMR MUSIC BASED ONE SHOTS

by icrieverytim



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icrieverytim/pseuds/icrieverytim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CHARACTERS WILL BE ADDED AS MENTIONED. If you want to request a song then just drop a message in the comments.<br/>_</p>
<p>This idea has been done before but they aren't updating any more and I kind of wanted to do something like that too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Please request song ideas in the comments thanks ;)

 

 


	2. Mr. Brightside by The Killers - Newt/Thomas

Newt wouldn’t admit it, but if Thomas wasn’t around he probably would’ve attempted suicide more than just once.

 

Thing is, Thomas turned up a few weeks or so after Newt attempted his suicide, bringing his aura of fun, curiosity and constant excitement. He was like a little kid but Newt didn’t really mind. He managed to get a fresh start with everyone, when Minho and Alby helped him play off the attempt as a ‘Griever’ accident. Newt was, for the first time in a while, happy. It was with Thomas he cracked the first smile since his injury.

They’d been sitting in The Deadheads for around an hour, whilst Thomas constantly tried to crack stupid jokes that Chuck had taught him that weren’t all that funny. Apart from one joke that wasn’t really a joke. It was more of a covered up confession.

“Hey, Newt, here’s my last joke.” Thomas grinned, prodding him with a slender finger.

Newt let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Hit me with it, Tommy.”

Besides, he'd heard so many of Thomas's terrible jokes that he was almost immune to cringing at them. Almost, sometimes if it was a really cheesy joke he'd just cringe, wrinkling his nose at Thomas's serious stupidity. Lovable stupidity, but stupidity.

“What’s blonde, bossy and makes my heart beat so fast it’s probably unhealthy?” Thomas asked casually, leaning back against the fallen log, fingers weaving through the damp strands of grass.

Newt froze, eyebrows knitting together. He was waiting for the punchline yet none came. He was just greeted by Thomas’s whisky coloured eyes. Intoxicating just like Gally’s Secret Recipe that Newt seemed to enjoy just a little too much. Newt cracked a slight smile at the boy and his attempt to be smooth. Newt couldn’t help but feel a warmth of fondness come over him whilst looking at the brunette.

It was kind of sad though, because they never did bring up the joke again.

They started to develop a simple pattern. In the mornings, Thomas would wait for him at breakfast and they would eat with the others before Newt would see off the Runners, always whispering a ‘be careful, shank’ before Thomas ran into The Maze. The first thing Thomas would do after sketching the maps upon his return would be find Newt. He’d always make sure Newt was in The Glade before The Doors closed and that did confuse Newt a little bit because he’d never told Thomas about his attempted suicide and with his shucked up leg he wasn’t exactly going to go running out of free will, was he?

He guessed Thomas just cared about him in a friendly way because that was what Thomas was like, always looking out for his friends. Then they’d eat dinner with the others again, making slight small talk before branching off from the group, every now and then snagging a jar of Gally’s Secret Recipe on the way. Then they’d talk until they could barely keep their eyes open before walking back to The Homestead and parting their ways. Newt would head to his private room-a perk of being on The Council-and Thomas would go to his hammock. Newt didn’t mind the routine, Thomas was a good friend and he enjoyed the time they spent together. Some would say they were quite clingy friends, attached at the hip but they both didn't care much. They liked the way their friendship worked.

Newt didn’t like the sound of The Greenie Alarm. He’d accidentally fallen asleep leaning against the log, with Thomas an arms length away. They always kept their distance-constantly fearing that one of them would break the 'best friends' barrier and they'd be forced to obtain a label. It might have been cowardly not to take a risk but Newt liked safety and security. He didn't want to loose Thomas.

Newt freaked out and that panicked Thomas because he'd never seen someone panic like that. Newt was clutching at Thomas’s shirt, breathing heavily like he’d just been pulled out of ice cold water whilst Thomas frantically tried to help him slow his breathing.

“Where did you learn that?” Newt demanded, feeling shame seep through his veins.

Shame for Thomas having to see him have a meltdown...but he couldn't help it. The Greenie Alarm just brought back memories that were too much to bear.

“Jeff and Clint taught me on the day I had to try out there. Saw I was your friend and told me it’d come in useful.” Thomas shrugged.

Maybe Thomas did know more than he let on. Newt gave him a sidelong glance before tugging his knees to his chest

. “...Thank you.” Newt said slowly, glaring at the muddy ground.

“No need to thank me, that’s what friends do.” Thomas smiled brightly.

He smiled as if Newt hadn't just crumbled apart in front of his very eyes.

Yet that status went straight out of the window at The Greenie Celebration. With the roaring of the bonfire, the pounding of the home made drums and the bitter taste of Gally’s Secret Recipe, Newt was buzzing. He stumbled around, searching for Thomas because he wanted to get away for a little while because the pounding was starting to hurt his head but he didn’t want to be alone. When he found Thomas he leaned his weight against him, letting out a loud yawn.

“Tommy...let’s get out of here.” Newt sighed, tugging on the washed out blue sleeve of Thomas’s shirt.

Thomas just nodded. “How much have you had to drink, Newt?”

“Not a lot.” Newt said lazily, already starting to walk.

It wasn’t long before they were alone. For some reason, Newt liked the fact they were alone and for some reason Newt sat a little closer to Thomas that usual. Usually there would be an arms length between them but now there was only an inch or two between them and their thighs were touching. Despite wearing jeans, Newt felt Thomas’s skin burning against his even through the layers.

“Are you alright Newt? You look a bit pale?” Thomas raised his hand to place the back of it against Newt’s forehead as if expecting some sort of fever.

Instead Newt grabbed the hand and with a quick move, straddled his lap. Thomas could smell the alcohol on Newt’s breath and he knew he lied about his intake of alcohol. Newt placed the hand on his own waist. Newt really had lied-he must've drunk a full jar or two just to himself. Thomas stared up at him with wide, doe like eyes and Newt had the random urge to whisper profanities into his ear until he was melting into a puddle of lust in Newts very hands. Yes, Newt would like that...He'd like that a lot. The hands that clutched the front of Thomas’s blue shirt were shaking a little.

“Newt what’re you-” Thomas began, frowning.

“Just bloody kiss me already!” Newt hissed.

He asked so Thomas complied, pulling him forwards by the waist and brushing their lips together. It was brief and short but it was the most intimate thing either of them had done so far so it still felt like an awful lot. Newt felt the adrenaline run through his veins, blending in with the alcohol and why...Why did he do that? Newt sighed when it was over, leaning his head against Thomas’s shoulder for a few moments before he leaned to the side, not able to give a warning before he threw up. Thomas wasn’t completely disgusted like Newt feared. Instead he wiped Newt’s chin with the bottom of his already grotty shirt before picking him up gracefully. Newt fell asleep like that, surprisingly. He fell asleep quickly in Thomas’s arms as he carried him back to his own bed. He wasn’t awake to see Thomas drape his old patchwork blanket over Newt before slipping out of the room but when he woke up he still remembered the taste of Thomas’s lips. They tasted a little like strawberries.

Newt loved strawberries.

It was sad though, because they never brought it up again.

However, when Newt saw Thomas and the others off the following morning by the door he pulled Thomas in to whisper;

“Be careful, shank.” Newt murmured, but his words had more meaning than usual.

His eyes flitted up to meet Thomas’s own and his hand was gripping Thomas’s sleeve, as if he wasn’t ready to let go. He wasn't ready to let Thomas run into The Maze where he could be injured or worse. The very maze where Newt tried to kill himself.

“See you later, shuckface.” Thomas muttered back before turning and heading into The Maze with Minho.

It was a fortnight later that The Gladers got a true fright. Newt had three anxiety attacks in the space of an hour, waiting for them. He sat directly in front of The Doors, staring straight down the main corridor. Minho had taken Thomas out further in The Maze, to see how far they could get. Minho was always early, he was the quickest runner. He’d once gone as far as possible in Section Four and back yet still returned half an hour before The Doors closed. Yet here they were, all of The Gladers hustled together, staring into The Maze. Five minutes until The Doors closed. Newt couldn't calm down properly though, only Thomas or Minho could calm him down.

“Are they going to make it?” Someone asked Newt, frowning.

“I don’t know.” Newt replied, his voice hoarse.

He just wanted Thomas out alive, preferably uninjured. He didn’t know why he cared so much, he just wanted him safe. He wanted to wrap him up in cotton wool to make sure he didn't get hurt. He couldn't look. It was killing him. Yet when Minho and Thomas ran through The Doors with only two minutes left Newt didn’t know if he wanted to hug them or slap them. Both, most likely. Thomas was a different story. He didn’t know if it would be weird to hug him after their random kiss or if he should just leave him to it, possibly throwing a comment of ‘glad you made it back, slinthead.’ Newt chose the first option the moment Thomas met his eyes. Thomas came stumbling forwards and Newt flung his arms around the brunette's neck eagerly, hugging him tightly. He didn’t know he was crying until Thomas joked about leaving a wet patch.

Newt pulled away, wiping underneath his eye to catch the rest of the tears. Why was he crying? He wasn’t too sure so he let his mouth do the job.

“Shuck you!” Newt yelled, pushing Thomas. “Shuck you good and truly! I was worried sick about you. I was going out of my mind. I had three anxiety attacks within one hour. That’s actually my current record, if you didn’t know. All I was thinking about was if I’d see your stupid face again! I thought you were dead.”

Newt began to sob and Thomas had to hug the blonde tightly.

“Shuck you.” Newt weeped into Thomas’s shoulder.

Newt visibly relaxed as Thomas ran a hand through his soft, fluffy hair. Just Thomas's touch could calm him and that did worry him a little...it made him feel weak.

“I’m sorry.” Thomas murmured into Newt’s hair. “I’m so sorry, I really am.”

Newt didn’t reply, but Thomas found himself being dragged into The Deadheads once more. This time not by his sleeve, but by his hand. Thomas stared down at their linked hands but as soon as they got to their special area, Thomas was being shoved into a sitting position and Newt’s legs were wrapped around his waist and Newt was kissing him like Thomas was his oxygen supply. It wasn’t an innocent, chaste kiss like before. It was rough, quick and full of clashing teeth and tongue.

They were both breathless right after and Newt weaved his fingers into Thomas’s hair. Thomas made a move. Thomas imagined it like a game of chess. Newt was ready to walk straight into checkmate and he didn’t care. For ‘friends’ they were pushing the limit a tad too much. Thomas made the bold move of kissing Newt’s bare neck, his lips brushing against the pale skin lightly. It was like being kissed by a butterfly and Newt leaned his head even more, allowing Thomas more access to kiss it.

He didn't know why-his petty excuse was that it felt good.

He didn’t leave a mark, but Newt felt his touch burn into his skin. They were marks that were invisible but Newt knew that Thomas’s lips were there. Thomas’s lips were on his skin. It ended all too soon, Thomas pulling away from Newt’s neck and Newt scrambling backwards just to sit by Thomas. Thomas wanted to ask. He really did. His mind was buzzing with questions but the one that stood out the most was ‘why?’

The next morning they woke together, Newt’s head leaning against Thomas’s chest and their legs entwined. Thomas was the first to wake up, glancing down at the sleeping blonde that somehow resembled an angel. Shaking him awake, they walked to breakfast together and if anyone noticed, nobody commented on it. Thomas made the next move, letting his defenses down a little.

Newt didn’t find Thomas after he came back from The Maze. He wanted to talk to Newt about what had happened the night before but he couldn’t bring himself to because he knew what look he would be given. It would be the look that practically screamed ‘are you an idiot?’. Quite frankly, Thomas was an idiot. He always had been and for Newt that was quite an advantage because by the looks of it, the board game for their chess was all over the place. Thomas woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air. He’d had another nightmare-it was getting to the point that they were coming all too often. He’d seen himself running through The Maze at night, feet hammering into the concrete floor and then all of a sudden it had began to break away.

It let Thomas fall and fall until eventually he woke up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep easily, so as always, he looked for Newt.

For once, he wasn’t actually that hard to find and Thomas pushed open Newt’s bedroom door. Second-in-command perks, huh? Newt, for some reason, was still awake. He had a small lamp beside him and his hands were behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Newt?” Thomas murmured.

“Tommy?...” Newt sat up quickly, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“I...had a nightmare. I just need to talk to someone I can’t...I can’t do it anymore Newt. I can’t do it.” Thomas’s voice was raising from a whisper to almost a shout and Newt had to get off of his bed to grab Thomas by the shoulders.

“Can’t do what, Tommy? Calm down, calm down.” Newt shook him a little, not breaking the eye contact.

“I can’t do it. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Thomas shuddered and Newt moved his hands to cup his face.

“Focus on me. Look at me! Focus.” Newt’s thumb subconciously slid over the soft skin dotted with moles. “Don’t think about anything. Just look at me, concentrate on me.”

It wasn’t helping much, whatever Thomas was freaking out over it must’ve had an effect on him because in seconds he was crumbling to the floor, hands flailing around to try and find something to grip on. His chest was heaving and Newt saw himself in Thomas’s eyes. Not literally. He saw himself when he was having an anxiety attack, he saw himself worrying about things and he saw himself with a weight on his shoulders that nobody could see.

“Okay, remember those breathing methods you did with me. Come on, let’s try them. Breath in with me. Count to three Thomas. One, two three.” Newt raised his fingers in time with his words. “Good, right okay now breath out. One, two three. One more time with me. One, two, three. Hold. One, two three.”

Thomas’s breathing had slowed down considerably and Newt just felt so relieved that this boy in front of him was okay. He didn’t know why he felt the relief flood through him like adrenaline but he didn’t care. Thomas’s lips were quivering a little but that was okay. Thomas was okay.

“I, I just can’t do it, Newt.” Thomas looked up at him with watery eyes.

“Do what? Tommy, I can’t help you sort this out unless you tell me exactly what you can’t do.” Newt said firmly.

“I can’t do this any more. I can’t just walk around after kissing you and act like nothing ever happened because quite frankly my emotions are all over the place. I can’t run in The Maze anymore. It’s pointless, I’ve been running for so long Newt and we haven’t found a thing. I know you’ve been here six months longer than me but I’ve been running for a year now. A year and a half and we haven’t found a single thing. There’s nothing.” Thomas swallowed, not daring to look up at Newt.

“It’s late, we should get to sleep.” Newt states bluntly, getting up to flop onto the bed, pulling the covers over him.

“Yeah...I’ll see you tomorrow.” Thomas nodded, heading back towards the door, his hand freezing on the door handle as Newt called out.

“Now where the bloody hell do you think you’re going?” Newt chuckled. “I told you we should sleep, not that you needed to leave.”

So Thomas blinked, turning around slowly. Newt was staring back at him, lying on his side to face Thomas. Thomas was drowning in Newt’s eyes and he didn’t know why. Yet he ignored it like they always did. Thomas slipped into bed next to Newt and they both turned to face opposite directions but Newt was aching to reach out and touch Thomas because he could feel his warmth even though they weren’t touching. He wanted to slide his arm around Thomas’s waist and rest his forehead against the crook of Thomas’s neck. He didn’t though, because he knew that’d be weird. They’d done some weird things, like their random kissing but Newt knew that might take it way too far. Yet the next morning he woke up to see a sleeping Thomas’s face only inches away from his and their legs were tangled together and Newt wanted to wake Thomas up, or to untangle himself but he just couldn’t. Was it wrong to think like this about Thomas? Newt thought it probably was.

“Hey, Tommy, we’ve got to get up for breakfast. Come on, I’m not having the leftovers.” Newt prodded his cheek and Thomas stirred into conciousness.

He jumped at first, seeing Newt’s face to close to his but he relaxed because it was only Newt.

“I’m getting up, I’m getting up.” Thomas grumbled, running a hand over his face.“Oh shuck, all my clothes are at my hammock.”

He jumped out of bed, staring down at his boxers. He had no clothes and he wasn’t exactly willing to run to his hammock in just them whilst people made comments about where he came from. People wouldn’t stop giving him that knowing look whenever he was around Newt. He didn’t exactly want to feed their suspicions.

“It’s fine. I’ve got some spares.” Newt stretched and Thomas had to look away because there was a shirtless Newt stretching right in front of him.

Newt hastily fumbled through his drawers before throwing a washed out fake denim shirt at him and a pair of black trousers he had to roll up because Newt was taller than Thomas. He changed quickly and when they were both ready, they headed down to breakfast. Newt locked their hands together without realising, he only realised when Thomas cleared his throat. Newt went to pull his hand away but Thomas shook his head, just readjusting his hand a little.

“Well, well. What do we have here. A rather red looking Newt and a Thomas in, cue gasp, Newt’s clothing. What were you two shanks getting up to last night? You know, considering that you were in Newt’s room.” Minho called, a grin spreading across his face.

Alby looked up as Minho hooted, rolling his eyes at his behaviour. Some people surrounding them turned to look, because well, Minho isn’t the quietest person. “Nothing bloody happened.” Newt snapped, passing by to get two bowls of porridge from Frypan whilst Thomas just sat down.

“Hm, Newtie Patootie isn’t feeling too sweet this morning, huh?” Minho mock-sighed, placing hand over his chest whilst jutting out his lower lip.

Thomas just shrugged, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. When Newt returned, he handed Thomas a bowl with a spoon and Thomas thanked him with a half smile. That half smile didn’t help Newt’s heart rate, making it beat a little faster. It sad sad though, because they never did bring up the fact that Thomas slept in Newt’s bed. They just ignored it like they always did. Newt was possessive. That was something that Thomas found out around a week later when The Greenie, Bailey, was asking him about The Runners. Bailey was one of the more attractive Gladers, which is probably why he riled up Newt a little more.

He had a mess of dark brown hair that was rather bed headish, and looked perfect without even being styled and green eyes that were as vibrant as the colour of the grass. He was tall too, and he had an aura of confidence. He was also shy, and was flushing whenever Thomas said something. Newt felt a slight pang in his chest when he walked by to head to The Map Room so he could speak to Minho. Thomas was laughing too, not a little chuckle but more of a head thrown back laugh and Newt felt a little bit sad. He didn’t know why. He just continued walking, giving a polite smile when Thomas called out to say hi.

“Who’s that?” The Greenie asked, curiosity edged into their voice.

Curious, just like Thomas.

“Oh? That’s Newt. He’s really nice, you should talk to him, he’s a great friend to have.” Thomas replied.

Friend.

Later on, Thomas brought Bailey over to their table at dinner. Thomas hadn’t come to find him after he’d returned from The Maze and Newt just found Alby and spoke to him instead.

“Guys, you should know The Greenie, is it okay if he sits with us?” Thomas chirped, sliding his tray of food across the table so he was sitting next to Newt.

Everyone nodded wordlessly and Newt took a glug of water, wiping his mouth of the back of his hand.

“So, Greenie, heard you want to be a Runner?” Minho asked casually whilst chewing, which wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight.

The Greenie nodded. “Yeah, guess I do. Tommy was telling me about it.”

Okay that really did rile up Newt. He was the only one who called Thomas that nickname. Everyone in The Glade was aware that Newt would be mad otherwise. Minho’s eyes flickered to Newt briefly, looking for any signs of anger.

“His name is Thomas.” Minho murmured, clasping his hands and resting his chin on them.

“Oh, he said you called him Tommy?” Bailey titled his head to one side.

“Only Newt calls him that.” Alby chipped in.

The rest of the dinner was awkward and rather quiet. Bailey left early, saying he was going to go and meet Zart.

“So…” Thomas dragged out the word.

“I don’t like him.” Newt wrinkled his nose. “I’m going to The Deadheads, you coming?”

Of course, Thomas agreed to go. He’d never miss out on an evening in The Deadheads with Newt without a rather good reason.

“How come you don’t like him?” Thomas asked curiously, he thought The Greenie wasn’t all that bad.

“Seems arrogant.” Newt shrugged, sounding a little distance.

They didn’t speak for a few more minutes, walking further and further into The Deadheads. Once Newt found their log he sat down. Thomas dared to sit close.

“Have I done something to annoy you?” Thomas sighed, sliding down the log a little.

“No.” Newt said maybe a little too quickly.

“Then why are you-” Thomas began again.

“Bloody hell Thomas! Do you ever come up for breath? Do you ever stop asking shucking questions?” Newt exclaimed.

Thomas looked a little hurt, his face falling a little.

“Oh god, Tommy-” Newt’s face softened.

“No. No I get it. I..I’m just that over active kid that pesters you all the time. I’ll stay away, I promise.” Thomas stood up, brushing his shirt down.

“Tommy!” Newt called, walking after Thomas a little.

Thomas didn’t reply, he kept on walking and Newt grabbed the back of Thomas’s shirt, pushing him against the tree trunk.

“I don’t mean what I said, alright? I just don’t like other people calling you Tommy…” Newt trailed off, eye flicking up to meet Thomas’s.

“So you’re jealous?” A smirk spread across his face, his whisky eyes twinkling.

“Shut up, Tommy.” Newt breathed. “Just shut up.”

So Thomas did, freezing against the tree trunk as Newt’s hands came to his waist, pulling his body close. Thomas’s arms awkwardly rested against Newt’s chest, balling up the hoodie.

“I just want to kiss you. I want to kiss you without any stupid questions. I want to kiss you whenever I want but I don’t want any bloody labels.” Newt rambled.

“Then just do it.” Thomas uttered, eyes searching Newt’s.

So he did. Slamming their lips together, Newt locked them together and they fit like two jigsaw pieces and his mind was so fuzzy it felt like he was drunk just from the taste of Thomas’s lips. Thomas’s hands moved to wrap themselves around Newt’s neck instead of laying at his chest, one gripping his golden locks. Newt gently bit Thomas’s lower lip and Thomas quickly opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and their tongues worked together in a small pattern and Newt found himself simply craving more. So he grabbed Thomas’s thighs and tugged them to wrap around his waist. Thomas loved it, he loved the touch of Newt’s lips and his burning tongue and the hands that were caressing his thighs and he just wanted to faint from pure pleasure. Thomas slipped his hands underneath Newt’s shirt, stroking the soft skin.

They just wanted more. Newt knew that by taking this any further he could walk into a trap. He could be giving up one of the most valuable pieces of his game-Thomas’s friendship. Yet in that exact moment neither of them cared they just wanted the other’s scorching touch. Newt’s lips moved to Thomas’s neck, sucking on the skin there and Thomas let out a slight hiss at the pain because Newt was being rough all of a sudden. He was biting at the sensitive skin, leaving his mark through dark bruises. Newt tugged at the shoulder of Thomas’s shirt, to reveal his sharply defined collar bones. When Newt roughly bit at the delicate skin of his right collar bone Thomas lost it, letting out a loud moan because it was sending electric currents through his body. Thomas raked his nails across Newt’s back, trying to keep the sounds of his pleasure quiet because if someone heard them they would never live it down.

Not that Thomas really had to keep it down because he didn’t own a single shirt that would cover up the dark hickeys Newt was leaving. Newt licked over the hollow of his collar bone and Thomas dug his nails in harder, making Newt gasp a little against the skin. Despite the scorching touch Thomas wanted more...No, he needed more. He pulled Newt’s shirt over his head and began to make matching marks on his pale skin and Newt leaned his back making this small sounds that just made Thomas even more needy of his touch. Thomas learned that Newt bruised easily, so it didn’t take much work. He also quickly learned that Newt liked having his hair tugged. Not too painfully-just enough for it to sting a little. Thomas’s fingers were threaded into Newt’s hair, yanking his head to the side as he sucked on the skin covering his pulse point.

Thomas squeezed his legs around Newt’s waist a little tighter, pushing against Newt to get some friction. That’s when Newt pulled away, lowering Thomas to the ground because he knew if he let him continue he’d lose all sense of self control. They didn’t talk on the way back to The Glade, and Newt was wondering if he’d made a big mistake.

“Tommy-” Newt began, raking a hand through his blonde locks.

“Please don’t say you regret it because I don’t. I really, really don’t.” Thomas fumbled with his fingers, eventually shoving them into his pockets.

“I don’t I just...No labels right?” Newt tilted his head to one side.

Thomas nodded, giving Newt a pat on the shoulder as he headed to the showers. “No labels. You might want to do something about that awkward boner you are sporting there though, Newt.”

Newt glared at the back of his head as Thomas pranced off. “Slinthead.”

Yet when Thomas was in the shower alone, making sure nobody was around he had to deal with his own awkward situation and the name that spilled past his lips as he hit his high was that belonging to Newt.

The next day, Bailey noticed the marks on Thomas and he wasn’t the only one to notice them. “

Shucking hell Newt, where did you get them?” Alby gaped.

“Don’t be a shank, Alby. They are hickeys. Lovebites. Whatever you want to call them.” Minho explained. “I think I have a good idea of where they came from too, considering Newt is sporting a nice patch himself.”

Thomas flipped him off, silently grabbing Newt’s hand under the table and Newt gave it a squeeze before tracing patterns on his thumb bone.

“I can see your hands under the table. You two better not be touching each other whilst I am present, for the love of god please keep that private.” Minho wrinkled his nose.

Newt rolled his eyes and raised their linked hands so Minho could see they weren’t doing anything dodgy.

“Aw, how sweet. I felt a little bile crawl up the back of my throat.” Minho said sarcastically and Alby elbowed him.

“You and Gally aren’t much better. Not to mention the fact you don’t tend to keep it quiet.” Alby grumbled.

Newt choked on a gulp of water. “Wait what? When did this happen?”

“Only like a week ago but nice old Alby here couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Minho gave Alby a punch to the arm that was a little harder than necessary.

“Wow, my brain. I don’t even want to see disturbing images in my head of you two doing the do.” Thomas cringed.“Gally? Really?”

Minho shrugged, a lazy grin taking place on his face.

Newt wasn’t sure how, but a few nights later, Thomas ended up in his bed again. This time he didn’t have a nightmare, he just went to Newt’s room because he wanted to. Newt couldn’t argue with that and when Thomas slipped into the bed Newt wrapped his limbs around the boy, nuzzling his head into his neck. He was defenseless. If Thomas wanted to win this game then he could because Newt just wanted Thomas-that was his prize.

Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t need to. Newt felt a light kiss on his forehead before he slipped into the depths of unconsciousness.

It was sad really, because they never mentioned that forehead kiss.

They never mentioned a lot of things after they happened and it kind of upset Thomas because Newt was something he ended up thinking about a lot. So things went back to normal quickly, the marks faded and there were no kisses between the duo-not even chaste ones.

Newt saw off the runners in the morning but would address Thomas and Minho together, telling them both to be safe. When Thomas came back, he didn’t go straight to Newt, he’d linger about before going to dinner. At dinner they’d talk like friends and there was no secret hand holding under the table. When Thomas had nightmares he didn’t climb into Newt’s bed, he suffered through them alone. Minho noticed it, Alby too. Bailey did as well but he didn’t do what Newt expected him to do, instead he kept his distance but was a friend to Thomas. Newt regretted not talking about any of the things that had happened, or walking into checkmate because if the game was over then what would happen? Would a new one begin? Thomas regretted it too because he left like he’d lost a limb somehow. The worst thing was, they didn’t break up because they had ‘no label’ in the first place. Nothing happened to them either, there was no big fight, they simply drifted apart. It kind of hurt Newt too because, well, he just missed the closeness. He missed the warmth that was Thomas and he missed the feeling of drowning when he was losing control and simply missed it all. The kisses, the feeling of lips on his neck, the sound of Thomas slipping into his room late at night, the distinctive taste of strawberries and his scent. So Newt did something about it.

He was done with pining and he was done with missing Thomas. That night, after everyone had gone to sleep Newt was the one to slip out of bed and sleepily walk around The Homestead until he found Thomas’s hammock.

“Tommy.” Newt whispered.

Thomas stirred, sleepy eyes flickering open to see Newt and he swore his heart skipped a beat for a second.

“Yeah?” He croaked.

“Budge over.” Newt said as if it was the most casual thing ever.

Thomas did what he was told and Newt climbed into the hammock, he missed this.

Thomas pulled the blanket up so Newt could get warm.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Thomas asked curiously.

“No.” Newt shook his head, his blonde hair tickling Thomas’s face. “I just...wanted you.”

Thomas took a sharp intake of breath but one arm snook around Newt’s waist, pulling him close. Newt snuggled into Thomas, resting his head on his chest wrapping one arm around Thomas’s torso and Newt realised that this is something he wanted to get used to.

“I don’t care if we have a label or not I just...I want what we had.” Newt murmured, his breath hot against Thomas’s shirtless chest. “I want to kiss you in front of everyone and not give a shuck, I want those marks on my neck and I want you to sneak into my bed at night. What would that make us?”

“It’d make us whatever you wanted us to be.” Thomas finally spoke.

“I don’t want to just be those friends that kiss, cuddle and um, maybe more but that’s kind of what we are.” Newt sighed.

“Then change it around.” Thomas shrugged.

So Newt did.

The next day, he did go to see The Runners off but he spoke to Thomas separately, placing his hands on Thomas’s hips as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Stay safe, shank.” He giggled, placing a ghost of a kiss to Thomas’s cheek and when they parted Newt could practically feel the gaze of all The Runners as he walked away. Newt liked it too. In fact, he liked it a lot. Newt was working in The Gardens when Thomas came back, picking strawberries.

He loved it when the strawberries were ripe as Fryan would make a variety of things. Shakes, cupcakes you name it and Frypan made it. With a hum, Newt took a bite of one, savouring the taste.

“Are they good?” Thomas tilted his head to one side.

“Oh, hello Tommy.” Newt grinned, reaching out to hand Thomas the other half but instead he tilted his head up and pecked his lips to Newt’s.

He pulled away, licking his lips. “Hm, those strawberries really are good, huh?”

Newt’s face had turned the colour of the strawberry that he’d accidentally dropped because you know, Thomas had just kissed him in public. He was mortified from the shock.

He heard Zart whoop somewhere in the background and he made a mental note to kick his arse later. That notified the others and Zart filled them all in and they began to cheer. They both felt embarrassed, ducking their heads.

Later that night, under the influence of Gally’s Secret Recipe the two kissed. They’d managed to stumble back to Newt’s room.

“Newt…” Thomas muttered. “Close the door for shuck's sake.”

Newt quickly pushed the door closed with one hand and swallowed, staring up at Thomas who was staring straight back down at him. Neither was sure who moved first, but it was frantic and urgent and as their lips locked into place Newt grinned into it.

His hands were sliding dangerously underneath Thomas’s shirt, running over his back and Thomas’s hands were cupping his face, thumbs tracing swirls onto the skin. Thomas stumbled forwards as Newt stumbled backwards and his knees his the back of the bed, pulling Thomas down with him. Thomas was quite happy about being the dominant one for once. It was always Newt holding him, or kissing him. Thomas made the most of it, pulling on Newt’s lower lip with his teeth and Newt let out a slight gasp, opening his mouth a little. Their tongues worked together roughly and it wasn’t long before Newt’s hands were messing up Thomas’s hair, making it stick up at all angles.

Newt scrambled backward until his head hit the pillow and Thomas moved so that Newt’s legs were wrapped around his waist. They’d never kissed this hotly, and Newt couldn’t help but let out a groan as Thomas kissed down his jaw and to his pulse point where he sucked and nibbled and Newt just let go-writhing underneath Thomas’s touch in a sequence of groans, hisses and whimpers.

Newt was sure the marks on his skin would be staying there for a while. Thomas leaned back so he could pull Newt’s hoodie and tank over his head before continuing down to his collar bones and chest, giving him ghost touches down the sides of his bare torso.

“T-Tommy.” Newt whined and Thomas just smirked up at him from Newt’s stomach before slipping his own shirt over his head, leaving them both shirtless.

Newt moved backwards so his back was elevated by the cushions and Thomas moved forwards, sitting on Newt’s chest and when he tugged at Newt’s hair Newt thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Newt marked him on his stomach, where nobody else would see and he took his time with them, trying to make them as dark as possible.

Then Thomas moved once more and Newt grumbled at the loss of contact but then- “Bloody hell!” Newt yelped as Thomas straddled him once more, grinding his hips down onto Newt’s crotch.

The next time Thomas grinded on him like that, he pushed upwards, trying to get some friction and Newt felt himself starting to harden because god-in his eyes-it was pure bliss. Newt kicked off his shoes and he heard them fall to the floor and he managed to slip his socks off using his hands which he felt pretty smart for. Thomas followed suit, also pulling off his jeans before unbuttoning Newt’s and Newt felt his breath hitch as he pulled his jeans down to his lower legs were he kicked them off. Were they going to stop? When were they going to call quits? Did Newt want to call quits?

Not really.

Newt woke up the next morning with his body thoroughly aching-especially in some...particular areas. Thomas looked smug as Newt let out a low groan, running a hand over his face

"Well, good morning." Thomas chuckled.

Newt just dead panned before shoving his face straight back into his pillow. "Ow."

Their bodies were splattered with dark bruises and on Thomas's neck there was a large bite mark bruise where Newt had sunk his teeth in whilst toppling over the edge. He winced at how painful it must be and he reached out to touch it but stopped, recoiling his hand.

"Does it hurt?" Newt asked.

"Only a little." Thomas shrugged, rolling over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Tommy what does this make us?" Newt sighed.

"I don't know."

After they'd changed into some clothing, they had headed down to breakfast, some people giving them a curious look as they walked by. Newt felt his chest tighten because he knew why they were looking. Someone must've heard them. Newt wasn't really hungry any more so he just sat straight down at their usual table, trying not to wince at the pain it inflicted.

"Well, well. You didn't tell me you and Thomas were friends with benefits..." Minho smirked.

"We...Um...How?..." Newt stuttered, blushing.

"Well you weren't exactly quiet, Newt. The Homestead walls are paper thin, not to mention you are both pretty loud. Pretty much everyone heard." Alby raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat.

Thomas slid down his chair until only his face was visible. "Now what?"

"Well if you're together, then come out. If you're just friends with benefits then leave it-they'll get the image." Minho explained.

Thing is Newt didn't exactly know what to do because they weren't friends with benefits at all but they weren't together. They were settled in the middle.

So they did what the always did.

**They just didn't talk about it.**

It started with a kiss...How did it end up like this?


	3. Ghost By Halsey - Gally/Thomas - Song Requested By 'Ruby'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Here we have a little Thomally because not all of this is going to be Newtmas!
> 
> Also, you can request a ship with your song so if you've already requested a song please do back and comment the ship you want for it ;) or you can leave it blank so my mind can work some wonders.
> 
> See you next time!

 

 

Gally loved bars. Maybe he loved them just a little too much. He loved the taste of the bitter alcohol on his tongue and he loved the way he could forget everything bad that had ever happened. He often regretted it the next morning but Gally was one to live in the moment. Which was probably one of his weaknesses-along with his inability to show his feelings because well...that wasn’t a Gally thing.

He didn’t want to take his anger out on Thomas-he didn’t deserve that. Quite frankly, Gally sometimes wondered if he deserved Thomas at all. Thomas with his constant curiosity and the need to do something good for people. Constantly trying to please. Constantly trying to make Gally feel like the world was okay when it wasn’t. Or at least to him it wasn’t. He never felt truly at peace with himself. There was always something unresolved, something that needed to be fixed.

It was crumbling around Gally and he was just waiting to be suffocated.

So whenever he got the chance he’d come to this little bar called The Glade, with the barista that would sometimes talk to him about his problems. She wasn’t so bad. Brenda.

Brenda with her pixie cut and bright red lipstick. Brenda with her tight fit skinny jeans and flowy tops that came above her belly button. Brenda and her way of understanding. He’d be lying if he wasn’t glad to have around. She always knew what to say to make him feel better about Thomas. How he felt so guilty about constantly leaving, how he felt bad for constantly snapping at him or how Thomas would sit up all night just waiting for Gally to come home so he could finally sleep.

Thomas couldn’t sleep alone-not when he knew Gally was out there at some bar. Talking to pretty girls and probably pretty guys too. Maybe they could give Gally what Thomas couldn’t, whatever it was or maybe they could make Gally happy again. Gally was always so distant with him and it kind of made Thomas just feel so alone, even when he did have his friends surrounding him. They always pressured him to break up with Gally but he always said that he loved him .

Gally had never said those three words to him. He’d said ‘I like you’ when he asked Thomas to be his boyfriend but he’d never said ‘I love you’. Thomas wished he would say it, yet he knew better than that. Thomas knew the relationship was unhealthy and he should get out of it whilst he could but he couldn’t just leave Gally like that.

So Thomas said they were just going through a rough patch and that they’d be okay soon; the rough patch did however seem to last a while.

So Gally was sitting at a bar-as usual, sipping the froth from a beer as Brenda leaned over the counter, drumming her matte black nails against it.

“So, Thomas troubles?” She tilted her head to one side, automatically knowing the reason for Gally’s appearance.

Gally nodded, gripping the glass tightly. “Yeah...I guess.”

“Look, Gal, I think you need to talk to him.” Brenda ran a hand through her pixie cut, messing it up a little.

“I can’t.” Gally argued, glaring at her. “We don’t talk about feelings and all that.”

“When was the last time you kissed?” She demanded.

Gally had to think about that one. It must’ve been around a fortnight ago, when Gally was in a good mood. He didn’t know why he was in a good mood, he just was. The weight on his shoulders for some reason didn’t feel as heavy as usual. Thomas was just there and he was looking at Gally with this look of amusement in his eyes and Gally just swooped in and kissed him.  

Yet the last time Thomas tried to kiss him was just earlier-before Gally had slipped on his converse to head out for the night. Thomas had grabbed onto his hand, begging him to stay because he hated it when Gally left. Thomas had leaned forward, trying to just peck him but Gally had turned around, leaving the boy in the flat they called ‘home’.

“Two weeks ago, I guess.” Gally murmured, avoiding Brenda’s shocked gaze. “He...tried to kiss me earlier though. Before I left. He didn’t want me to go. I ignored him.”

“Why did you ignore him, Gal? He’s your boyfriend. You’re supposed to listen to him, that’s sort of how a relationship works.” She hissed, frustration clear in her eyes.

That was why Gally became friends with Brenda. She was fiery like Gally and she was very to the point. Gally hated sugarcoating things. That was always the worst. Sugar coating things to make them sound sweeter when really they were as bitter as the beer Gally was drinking.

Everyone tried to sugarcoat his mother’s suicide when he was around thirteen. They always tried to make it seem like she wasn’t a sad lady that had nothing left to live for. So he was packed off to live with his dad. Everyone tried to sugarcoat it when his dad kicked him out at the mere age of sixteen and he was forced to buy his own shitty flat.

Gally knew the reality of things. Happiness was just an illusion.

“I care about him.” Gally said roughly.

“Then act like it!” Brenda slapped his arm. “As much as I love your company, get your ass back to your boyfriend and make him feel good about himself.”

So Gally downed the rest of his beer and opened the bar door, emerging onto the busy street. A group of girls were walking towards the bar, all clutching hands. There are three of them.

One with strawberry blonde hair pulled into a fluffy high ponytail wearing a tight red long sleeved dress that was way too short, another with frizzy black hair floating about her face with bright red lipstick and a white dress and the last one with black hair and shocking blue eyes, with a v-necked dress to match. They were all quite attractive and Gally didn’t know why he even noticed that-why was he looking at other people like that?

The one with the blonde hair spotted Gally and called out;

“Hey hot stuff! Where you headed?” She giggled, clearly a little tipsy already as she leaned against the blue eyed girl.

“Home.” Gally said bluntly.

“Hey...Don’t leave without giving us your number.” The strawberry blonde pouted, batting her long lashes that were clearly fake.

She fitted into the checklist of all the cliche movies. He let out a barely audible sigh as he turned away.

Gally rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

“Aw, come on.” She bit her lip, dragging her eyes over Gally slowly.

So he did it, he didn’t know why though. Yet by the time he got home his phone was buzzing quickly to inform him the names of the girls and he quickly saved them into contacts. Sonya, Harriet and Teresa. He doubted they’d message him the next day-once the drinks wore off.

“Gally?” A quiet voice called out as Gally flicked on the lights.

Thomas was curled up on the sofa, surrounded by chinese takeaway cartons. Thomas had ordered Gally some too, it was sitting on the counter untouched and Gally couldn’t help but sigh at the gesture. It was just so...Thomas.

Thomas rubbed at his eyes, yawning.  “You’re home early.”

“I know, didn’t really feel like drinking. What did you order me?” Gally asked, practically throwing the keys into the small pottery dish Thomas had made back in high school.

He didn’t know why Thomas insisted on keeping it. It was a simple thing, not exactly perfect and simply painted black to match the black and white interior. If Gally could, he’d throw it away.

“Chicken chow mein,” Thomas smiled “I know it’s your favourite.”

Gally shot him an appreciative look before opening the steaming container, grabbing the fork next to it. He flopped onto the worn leather sofa beside Thomas, who sat with his feet curled underneath him. He just watched Gally with a caring look in his eyes.

“I hate you when you leave. You leave me here alone.” Thomas muttered, fiddling with the pockets of his black skinny jeans.

Gally had to try quite hard to swallow the food in his mouth. The way Thomas was looking at him made him feel like absolute crap. Thomas had bags under his eyes, bags that Gally had put there because Thomas refused to go to sleep without him. Thomas was looking at him like a kicked puppy.

“You have friends.” Gally said quietly, prodding at his food.

“They have their own lives, Gally.” Thomas took a deep breath, as if he was ready to rant, shout and scream but he didn’t.

He stayed mute, fiddling with his thumbs as he nervously watched Gally tremble with annoyance.

“And I have mine!” Gally suddenly shouted, throwing his container down on the table so hard some of the food slopped onto the table. “You’re always tugging at my fucking sleeve! I’m tired of it!”

Thomas looked pretty hurt, his usual bright eyes darkened a little. He scrambled up off the sofa, running a hand through his brunette hair as Gally glared at him from the sofa. Thomas felt his heart break a little, as if someone had dropped an antique glass already full of scratches and marks. Just by saying those few words...It just opened up all of those wounds and unleashed all of Thomas’s insecurities.

So Thomas walked to their room, slamming the door loudly. Gally just assumed he’d be sleeping on the couch and with a roll of his eyes, he brought his legs up onto it, stretching them a little. Thomas was in their room, pulling out a suitcase. He threw his clothes in there angrily.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to take all of his clothes so he just threw in his favourites. He went around the room like that, figuring out if it was his and if it was, he’d throw it in if he wanted to keep it. He even went into the bathroom to get his favourite coconut scented body wash and his toiletries because Thomas didn’t really know what he would need or where he was going to go. With shaking hands he packed his bags, dropping things every now and then.

Who could he call? Where could he stay?

He tried to wrack his brain as he packed checking people off of a mental list.

Gally was completely unaware, watching the television he’d splurged on before Christmas when they moved in. He wasn’t really watching it though, he was just staring at the screen until his vision became blurry. He felt a little guilty for what he’d said to Thomas but then again it was the boys fault for being so clingy, right? Maybe they’d talk about it in the morning over coffee and burnt toast.

That’s not what Thomas thought though, as he’d finished packing his bags and he tugged a burgundy beanie over his head. He yanked on a different band shirt that wasn’t completely covered in chinese sauce. With a deep breath, he emerged from his room. Casually, he got himself a drink of orange juice and Gally just stared at him with wide eyes.

“Where are you going?” He asked, trying not to let his voice shake.

Was Thomas leaving him? Somebody else was leaving him? Pushing him away?

“Away.” Thomas said simply, wheeling the suitcase towards the front door. “My house keys are in the dish. I’m taking the car considering I paid for it.”

Thomas grabbed the car keys out of the bowl on the way, his hand snatching out at a quick pace. Gally felt a little lightheaded. One of the only people that have ever cared about him and they are leaving him? His mouth felt dry and he was just panicking because Thomas was...well Thomas was leaving him.

He was leaving him and it was all his fault.  

“Thomas-” Gally called out but he was greeted by the loud slamming of the door.

Later that night he curled up in a ball, the covers pulled up to his chin. He still couldn’t sleep though because the bed was too cold without Thomas sleeping beside him. He hoped that Thomas missed him-even though he knew he’d been a total dick lately. Gally smoothed out the blue checked sheets and a lump grew in his throat because he vividly remembered shopping for things for their new apartment when they bought it. Thomas was really excited, practically a bundle of joy whilst he dragged Gally around the large shop by the hand.

Back then, Gally didn’t mind the weird signs of affection. He didn’t mind it that Thomas made little whimpers in his sleep whenever he had bad dreams. He didn’t mind that those noises sometimes kept him up at night because he was so worried about Thomas but he never woke him up because he knew Thomas needed sleep.

He didn’t mind Thomas stealing the last slice of pizza, he didn’t mind holding his hand in public even if they did get weird looks because screw the haters. Thomas was his.

Thomas wasn’t his anymore and it sucked.

He stared at the phone he’d placed on Thomas’s pillow, almost pleading for it to ring and be Thomas’s ID. Chewing his lip silently , he pressed his head back into the pillow and thought back to the times when things were good. When Gally didn’t go to The Glade most nights and when they would cuddle. Sometimes kiss too.

“Happy Birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to Gally...Happy birthday to you” Thomas sang loudly, placing a large iced cake in front of Gally.

“Really Thomas?” Gally sighed, yet he didn’t complain when Thomas pressed his lips to his cheek lightly.

“You better believe it. I have your present!” Thomas grinned widely, clasping his hands. “I’m really nervous because I spent a lot of time on it and-”

“Pipe down and get it, moron. I’ll love it.” Gally assured, rolling his eyes.

Thomas trotted off to their bedroom before coming back with what looked like a large card yet when Gally opened it with wide eyes there were pages full of images and small items glued down.

Thomas had made him a scrapbook.

Gally wasn’t one to act all sentimental but when seeing how much hard work Thomas must have put in he did tear up a little. There was a picture of them graduating high school together, throwing their hats into the air with Newt, Minho and Alby next to them. They were doing it too and it was quite a nice picture, he had to admit, even though the other boys in the picture were Thomas’s friends...not his.

Then Thomas had glued down a concert ticket from the time they went to see Gally’s favourite band play live. Thomas had been just as excited as Gally and when they heard the opening riff of the guitar Thomas held his breath, turning towards Gally who was just staring at the band. Thomas looked at him with so much adoration that when he turned to look at Thomas it made his usually ice cold heart thaw a little.

Then there was a few pictures of them posing with their brand new apartment. A selfie was one of them, with Gally hugging Thomas from behind and he just looked so...happy.

Gally scrambled out of bed quickly, reaching up to pull the scrapbook off of the top of the wardrobe and he looked through it all, savouring every memory. Every inside joke, every little item Thomas had glued down and he just sort of broke down in tears which was kind of rare because Gally was Mr Tough Cookie. Gally never needed anyone. Gally just needed himself and a couple of beers.

He also pulled out his phone, deleting those girls’ numbers. He didn’t need them. He didn’t want them.

The next morning, Gally was awoken by a loud banging on the door. He sprang straight out of bed, ready to fling the door open and pull Thomas close and just apologise.

Yet the person who stood at his door wasn’t Thomas...It was a police officer.

“Is there a problem?” Gally asked roughly.

“Is this the home of Thomas Greene?” The female officer asked him.

She was around his age with her brown hair thrown into a bun. Her eyes looked kind and almost...sorrowful. She wore a small badge saying ‘Rachel’.

Gally nodded. “Or...Was I guess.”

“...Are you Galileo Downs?” She questioned.

Gally internally cringed. “It’s just Gally and...yeah...why?”

“It’s with remorse that I tell you Thomas Greene was involved in a car crash late last night. It was a drunk driver and Thomas is currently in a special unit so he can be examined correctly. Would you like to come with us to see him? He kept asking to see you.” She winced. “Look, it was my job to inform you but you look really rough. We can give you a lift.”

Gally’s head was swimming. Thomas...his Thomas. He had to lean against the doorframe, grippping the door hard so he didn’t flop to the floor in shock. His Thomas...He just wanted to see him. He needed to see him.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight of Thomas though. He’d been in fights and so had Thomas but nothing ever came close to the bruises that marked Thomas’s beautiful face. Gally wanted to cry again. Thomas was going through all of this pain. If he’d just grabbed his arm and told him he loved him then he might’ve stayed and he’d be okay. If Gally didn’t drink so much then Thomas wouldn’t have walked out on him. It was all his fault.

Thomas’s lip was a little crusty from dried blood and his eyelids were rather puffy. More blood made his eyelashes stick together and Gally let out a choked sob, stumbling towards the seat next to Thomas. He placed his hand over Thomas’s as he called out.

“Is that you Gal?” Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s me.” Gally swallowed. “I’m so sorry I-”

“It’s okay.” Thomas sounded like he was going to cry. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not I-” He began again.

“I can’t see anything. I’m scared.” Thomas whimpered. “It’s all dark.”

Gally didn’t realise Thomas had opened his eyes a little, trying to look at Gally but failing. Gally knew. Gally just knew that Thomas was blind.

“Are you…” He trailed off.

“Yeah.” Thomas sniffled. “Gally I won’t be able to see you anymore.”

“It’s okay.” Gally said confidently. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

“No we won’t. I won’t be able to drive, I won’t be able to look at you, I won’t be able to paint. Hell, Gally, I won’t even be able to read.” Thomas exclaimed.

“It’s okay.” Gally murmured. “I love you, Thomas. We’ll get through it together. We’re a team right?”

The words ‘I love you’ had slipped out of his mouth so naturally he didn’t even realise he’d said them until he felt Thomas tense underneath his touch.

Yet Gally didn’t regret his words, he was glad he said them. Together, they would get through it. Gally would help him with anything that he needed help with and he wouldn’t go to The Glade that often. He’d always help Thomas.

He did go back to The Glade one day though.

Thing is, he went back with Thomas. Thomas was smiling widely as Gally linked their arms. He had to pull Thomas out of the way as a man went speeding past.

“Dick.” Gally hissed after the man.

When they emerged through the doors, Gally had to tighten his grip on Thomas, guiding him to Brenda. Brenda grinned so widely it must’ve hurt when she saw the two. She finished serving some customers before bounding over.

“Ah, Thomas is it?” Brenda asked, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

Of course, Thomas didn’t shake it because he well...couldn’t see the hand. Gally felt like facepalming. What an awkward introduction.

“Um...He...Can’t see your hand.” Gally winced.

“I’m blind but yeah, I’m Thomas.” Thomas chuckled.

“I’m Brenda. I’ve heard a lot about you, sweetcheeks. Now what would you like to drink?”

  
  
  
  



End file.
